I love my kid. I love my kid. (Repeat. Forever.)

I do love my kid. I love her with all my heart. I love her so much that I signed her up for flute lessons tonight when she’s already taking piano lessons. This is on top of the ice skating lessons and Girl Scout meetings we regularly attend. I did all of this after this conversation we had after school today.

Cue Wayne’s World reenactment music and wavy hands.

There’s a blustery wind blowing pretty little snowflakes all over the driveway. There’s a light dusting of snow already on the sidewalks and streets. It’s pretty chilly. I hate winter. A few of the neighbors come up and join me in/near the garage for a little shelter. I can hear the dog barking his “mean” and nasty bark because he saw one of the neighbors walk over with her dog. He’s very tough. Good thing we only have to wait a few more minutes! The bus rounds the corner. The neighbors and I make our way down the drive to greet our kiddos. I greet my kid with the usual gusto and hug. We walk up the drive and I grab my Loft items. We go through the normal after-school routine—take off our coats, hang up a backpack, yell at the dog to drop daddy’s shoe. I head upstairs to put away my Loft goodies. The dog and the kid follow me. Stay, doggie.

So I ordered a new bathing suit. I’ll probably try it on before bedtime. I can’t help but open the package to look at it. I’m admiring it, and then I hear the kid sneak into my room.

Kid: “What’s that?”
Me: “My new bathing suit.”
Kid: “Oh.” She crinkles her nose. “Is it a bikini?”
Me: “Uh, no! Why? Are you trying to say that I wouldn’t look good in a bikini?” I say this jokingly.

Stop right there. This story ends like one of those choose-your-own adventures.

Choose Ending A or Ending B.

Ending A
Kid: “Mommy, you look good in anything!”
Me: “Aw! I love you so much!” Hugs all around!

Ending B
Kid: “Ew! No.”
Me: “What?! Are you saying I’m fat and shouldn’t wear a bikini?”
Kid: “Well, no, but…”
Me: “WHAT?!” Huge eyeballs! Sad face.

Cue Wayne’s World reenactment music and wavy hands.

Don’t tell me what ending you chose. My eyeballs and sad face couldn’t take it.

I believe my kid is growing up and hasn’t mastered the art of little, white lies yet. Excuse me while I schedule my workouts for the rest of my life.

Dedicated to Daily Prompt.


4 thoughts on “I love my kid. I love my kid. (Repeat. Forever.)

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